


The one where Clarke can't sleep

by melchellington



Category: The 100, clexa - Fandom
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-10
Updated: 2016-03-10
Packaged: 2018-05-25 20:15:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6208543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melchellington/pseuds/melchellington
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A brief encounter on the balcony of the throne room after the swear of fealty.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The one where Clarke can't sleep

Clarke woke suddenly, her body jerking upward, a hand reaching for a blade that had been confiscated. Visions of melting faces were still fresh in her mind. She rubbed her eyes to chase them away but they were only briefly pushed aside as she removed her bed covering and planted her feet on the cold stone floor. Sweat soaked through her night shirt and the breeze following moonlight through the open window quickly reversed her nightmare fever. She removed a fur lined robe and pair of foot coverings from their resting place on the chair. The woman who had brought them to her called them mocassins, a word unfamiliar to Clarke in spite of her excellence at Earth Studies on the ark. The yellowed fur slid over her body and she wondered what kind of animal had been sacrificed for her comfort. Her education had taught her about gigantic creatures covered in white fur that once inhabited the land now belonging to the Ice Nation. They had been all but extinct by the time the bombs dropped and if this was indeed polar bear fur then it would be an even more precious gift than she first realized. But that was the way of being on the ground, things are never what they first appear.  
She pulled the robe tight, cinching it at the waist and tugging the thick hood over her head just far enough to avoid both suspicion and immediate recognition. She was free to move about the tower but didn’t need every hand maiden whispering about her nightly activities. She considered crawling back into bed but was reticent to potentially enter back into the nightmare world so soon. Instead she pulled the doors to her chamber open and was promptly greeted by her two guards.   
“Wanheda, “ the nearest guard bowed his head slightly.  
“I’m having difficulty sleeping. I’m going for a walk about. I won’t be long,” her attempt at sounding authoritative paled into comparison to Lexa’s. He gave no reply except a slight nod and two sets of heavy footsteps followed her down the hallway. Clarke stopped and turned to them, “I’d like to be alone.”  
“Heda commands us to protect you.” The first guard answered.   
“The mountain killer can certainly protect herself,” she practically hissed at him. His blank expression prompted her to remember that he was simply acting under orders and was not the source of her anger. She softened her tone, “Perhaps one of you can stay behind and make sure no errant assassins enter my chambers while I’m away.” The first guard nodded toward the other, who returned to his post. Clarke continued down the barely lit hallway, eventually losing awareness of the eyes on her as she studied the chambers she passed. She began working on a mental map of the floor and zigzagged through numerous hallways to ensure she had the layout correct. She passed a few chambers repeatedly but was careful not to linger too long, lest her guard report back that she was snooping, or whatever the Trigedeslag word for it was. As she approached the throne chamber, she was drawn to explore it a little more fully. Her guard followed her inside, but seeing no one else around afforded her some privacy and stationed himself outside the door.   
They say places can’t be good or evil but this room certainly had a life of it’s own. She stood in the spot where Lexa has bowed to her earlier, making promises that Clarke still didn’t exactly trust her to keep. It would take some time but the act had ignited a feeling in Clarke that was quickly replacing her hatred. She paced the circular room, contemplating it’s history. She wondered how long this had been the coalition’s meeting place. It couldn’t have been long as the coalition was only a half a decade old. How many decisions affecting the lives and deaths of Lexa’s people had been made in this room? She looked toward the throne at the center. Was Lexa sitting right there when she ordered 300 grounders to attack her at the drop ship landing site?   
The gnarled wood backing of the throne was a contrast against the soft silken curtains billowing behind it. It was a testament to this new world. Everything on the Ark had been harsh and cold. The power structure had been strict and moments of beauty had been fleeting. On the ground, beauty engulfed her but power fluctuated almost daily and always came at a gruesome cost. She approached the throne, entertaining the idea of sitting on the worn wooden seat of power. Clarke had never actively sought power. Her people had chose her to lead and the power she gained was almost accidental. The decisions she had made were meant to simply keep her people safe, not reach for power. She wouldn’t take the throne, she certainly didn’t deserve it.   
As she studied the throne, she noticed a shadow dancing in the folds of the curtains, coming from the balcony on the other side. Her suspicions were confirmed when she pulled the curtain aside just slightly enough to see Lexa standing on the open balcony, staring into the night, the ever present somber look on her face. Clarke hadn’t quite yet separated the mix of reverence and disappointment she felt whenever seeing the commander but she was glad to not be the only one kept sleepless. Lexa didn’t appear to notice her presence but as she moved to slip away back into the chamber, Lexa’s voice called out, “Clarke, stay.” She was an expert at making a request sound like a command.   
“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” she answered respectfully. Lexa’s silence prompted her to add. “I was having difficulty sleeping.”  
Lexa’s gaze finally turned toward her, concern on her face. “That makes two of us.”  
Clarke fully stepped onto the balcony, the curtains closing behind her, “And what keeps the great Heda awake at night?” The sarcasm in her voice was obvious but Lexa would not be so easily wounded.  
“Likely the same thing that keeps the legendary Wanheda roaming my halls.”  
Clarke took a step toward Lexa, a weariness in her voice, “I never wanted to be the Commander of Death. Who would want that? I’m a healer, I’ve only ever wanted to help people.”   
“You’ve helped me,” she smiled slightly, offering what help she could to Clarke’s tormented conscience.   
“Have I? Keeping me alive shows weakness. The Ice Nation is taking advantage of that.”  
“The Ice Nation thrives on war. They would have found a way to challenge me with or without you,” Lexa opened her mouth to say more but then quickly shut it, turning to face the open night again. Clarke moved closer and joined Lexa in looking out toward the sea of intermittent flickering lights that made up the city below them. The bustle of the day was gone and the silence below pulled at them, weighing heavily on them both. Clarke thought about the thousands of beating hearts, pounding gently as their owners lie restfully under Lexa’s protection. Her own heart raced.   
“It’s beautiful,” Clarke said finally. “In all my thoughts of what life on the ground may look like, I never imagined something like this. You’ve built something remarkable.”  
“The coalition makes this possible,” she responded stoically then gently offered, “Now that you and your people have joined us, we are glad to share it with you.”  
“Not everyone is so eager to break bread with Skaikru,” Clarke pulled her robe closer to her body as the windy night air seeped into its cracks. The chill and the thought of being surrounded by so many potential enemies caused a shiver to run through her.  
Lexa noticed this and turned to Clarke, the warmth in her eyes instantly affected her. “Queen Nia will come to justice and the coalition will accept Skaikru as the 13th clan. Time will heal the wounds between our people.”  
Clarke wanted to believe her but the mention of wounds needing to be healed brought her back to the day this same person who now seemed so concerned with her safety, left her to die at Mount Weather. She knew Lexa’s earlier apology was genuine and though the wound had begun to scab, the only thing Lexa offered so far were words.   
“I hope so,” Clarke responded genuinely but cautiously.   
Lexa sensed the apprehension in her, “You’re hope is not misplaced.”   
“Time will tell,” a playful annoyance swept across the Commander’s face as her own words were used against her. Lexa smiled slightly and Clarke felt her defenses beginning to falter once more. She smiled in response but felt a wave of exhaustion overcome her.   
Lexa seemed to sense this, “The hour is late, you should try to get some more sleep.”  
Clarke simply nodded and turned to go. She peered over the edge of the platform as she moved toward the curtain separating it from the throne room.   
Turning to Lexa she offered, “You know, you should probably have a wall constructed here. It’s not safe being open like this. Someone might trip and fall.”   
“I’ll take that under advisement,” Lexa responded without a hint of irony. “Goodnight, Clarke.”  
“Good night, Commander,” Clarke responded respectfully, pulled the curtains aside and disappeared into the throne room.


End file.
